


Double Entendre

by shuofthewind



Series: Fidelis ad Mortem [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Attempt at Humor, Cell Phones, F/M, Fluff, Police, Texting, email
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuofthewind/pseuds/shuofthewind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>11:15 PM</strong> <em>Question: what kind of personality is demonstrated by someone who anonymously sends bad pick-up lines via a blocked-number for six plus months?</em></p><p>Or, Roy is a Star Wars nerd, Riza is 500% done, and Catalina has an invested interest in getting her best friend laid. Also, if Al's not careful, Hughes is going to kidnap him. Because coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Entendre

**Author's Note:**

> Riza is regular type, Roy is _italic_ , Lan Fan is **bold** , Rebecca is underlined.
> 
> Added some email into this because I just couldn’t resist it you guys.

 .

.

.

  _October 31_

_._

_._

_._

 There were certain days, Riza reflected, that made her think it would have been much simpler to just follow her father’s suggestion and go into academia. For certain, it would have meant fewer scars for her (the shrapnel wound from riot control down in Fotset still drove her crazy). It would have meant that she never would have had to go into that undercover thing two years ago (Breda’s eyes _still_ rolled in his head when Fuery brought it up). It would have meant fewer nightmares. It would have meant, she thought, that the universe would still be as black and white as it had been when she was three, and telling her mother that someday she would throw all the bad men who had chased her out of her old town into a dungeon and keep them there forever.

It definitely would have been simpler. But it would have been so very, very boring.

She checked the magazine (full, except for one bullet) and smoothed the wrinkles out of her two-days-old shirt before getting out of the driver’s side. She was pretty sure that it had been this would have been Falman’s case if he hadn’t been out on that homicide call; Falman was good at robberies, simply because he had sharp eyes and a memory for detail that rivaled the most experienced investigator in their precinct. Breda was already at work on the doorknob and the shattered glass; he glanced up at the sound of the car door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She watched him dust the doorknob for a second or two. “Owner’s inside?”

“Yeah. They had a security camera set up, too. High tech. All the video is transmitted to an off-site storage unit. _And_ it’s disguised. Fuery looked about ready to dance from pure nerdy joy.”

“He’s here too?”

Breda snapped his gum. Riza gave him a look, and he swallowed it. “Havoc’s taking the statement. Catalina’s going over the safe. Seems pretty open ‘n shut, H.”

She could do with some open and shut. Riza stepped over his kit (fingerprinting and blood trace, though she doubted they’d need that here; still, there was always the possibility) and said, “I’m going to go talk to Havoc. Have fun with your glass.”

She was halfway down the aisle marked _feminine hygiene products_ when Breda raised his voice. “Tell the captain you need time off, H, you work too goddamn much!”

She waggled her fingers at him and ducked into the back room.

The bodega owners were tall, grumpy, and Ishvalan. Havoc had that panicked look that meant he thought he was talking to a brick wall. Out of the corner of her eye, Riza could see Rebecca smothering laughter. She caught Rebecca’s eye, and shook her head a little, but Rebecca couldn’t quite stop; she turned back to take photos of the safe before Havoc could notice the way her shoulders were shaking with giggles. She could hear Fuery humming to himself, and the click of a keyboard. He was probably neck deep in computer science, then. She hid a sigh. “Officer Havoc,” she said, and Havoc whipped around and gave her the _oh my god you are my hero forever_ face. “I can take it from here.”

Her phone buzzed. Riza fumbled it out of her pocket as Havoc turned to write down some final details. She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from swearing.

_Unknown number: You’re hotter than a Bunsen burner set to full power._

* * *

4:31 PM  
On my way back to the 12th. Want coffee?

4:34 PM  
 **That would be so completely appreciated. You’re the best supervisor ever.**

4:35 PM  
Flattery will get you everywhere with the Captain but absolutely nowhere with me. You know this already.

4:35 PM  
 **Not flattery when it’s true.**

4:36 PM  
You’ve learned well. Send me your coffee order. How’s the office?

4:37 PM  
 **If you’re going to Resembool, then just tell Al that it’s for Lan Fan, he’ll know what to put in it. (Really, thank you so much for this, I’m pretty sure the coffee machine here stopped manufacturing coffee and started making nuclear waste about six months before I even graduated high school.) And everything here is copacetic. Surprisingly. Isn’t Halloween supposed to be a big night for crazies?**

4:38 PM  
Sun hasn’t set yet. Give it time.

4:38 PM  
 **Fuery stopped by about twenty minutes ago with more paperwork. And the Captain’s been asking for you since you left.**

4:38 PM  
I know.

4:39 PM  
 **Asking for you as in, asking every ten minutes.**

4:40 PM  
I know.

4:40 PM  
It has nothing to do with work, Lan Fan. Don’t worry about it.

4:41 PM  
 **Yes, ma’am.**

* * *

4:45 PM  
The guy’s back.

4:45 PM  
Wait what guy.

4:46 PM  
Oh, the pick-up line guy. Wait, he’s back? I thought he stopped two months ago.

4:47 PM  
Well, if he did, someone very cunning with the same kind of blocked number just texted me a science pun about Bunsen burners.

4:48 PM  
Aww, he’s a nerd. That’s unexpected.

4:48 PM  
This guy does not engender an “aww” reaction, Rebecca. This guy is kind of creepy. And enormously irritating. And more than a little creepy actually.

4:49 PM  
Obviously. 

4:50 PM  
I mean, who gets a restricted phone number just to send someone random pick-up lines? Who does things like that?

4:51 PM  
No idea.

4:52 PM  
And he’s been doing it on and off for six months, Rebecca. I’m enormously frustrated. I’ve tried having Fuery trace it but even he can’t find anything. He thinks the cell phone’s disposable.

4:53 PM  
Look, if it’s bothering you so much, just get a new phone number.

4:53 PM  
I can’t. This is my work number. He doesn’t have my home phone, thank god.

4:54 PM  
I could have sworn I’d told you that before…

4:55 PM  
When are you off duty?

4:56 PM  
At nine, thank God. No Halloween nutsos for me, just phone-based ones. Why?

4:57 PM  
Because we are not continuing this conversation without margaritas. Devil’s Nest at 10?

4:48 PM  
Only if you’re buying.

* * *

4:53 PM  
If you keep doing this she’s going to go well and truly crazy. Ever consider actually *telling her*?

4:58 PM  
 _I don’t know what you’re talking about, Catalina. Get back to your paperwork._

4:59 PM  
I told you to send her love notes, Mustang. NOT WEIRD SCIENCE PICK-UP LINES FROM A BLOCKED NUMBER. We discussed this. God, you suck at this romance thing.

5:02 PM  
 _I plead the Fifth. Paperwork, Catalina. I just sent Fuery over with a new packet._

5:04 PM  
….you *suck*. 

* * *

5:06 PM  
Sir, stop harassing my new recruit. Even if she won’t admit it, it scares her.

5:06 PM  
 _All the new officers need to be scared out of their wits the first year. They never learn any other way._

5:06 PM  
 _When are you coming back to the office? The Kimblee paperwork is burning a hole in my desk._

5:07 PM  
No, that’s your cigarettes.

5:08 PM  
 _I quit five years ago. Stop mocking me about it._

5:08 PM  
And yet you still always smell like smoke.

5:09 PM  
 _Lies, all of it. The rest of your team came back an hour ago, by the way._

5:09 PM  
Good.

5:10 PM  
 _Why the detour?_

5:11 PM  
I had to decompress. Also, to pick up some paperwork from the legal offices for Sheska. And until you get a new coffee machine for this place, I’m stuck relying on expensive baristas. Is something the matter?

5:12 PM  
 _Not in the slightest._

5:13 PM  
Sir.

5:13 PM  
 _Detective Hawkeye._

5:14 PM  
You’re very bad at lying.

5:14 PM  
 _On the contrary, I’m very good at it._

5:15 PM  
Really.

5:15 PM  
 _I resent the implication._

5:16 PM  
Did Deputy Superintendent Raven call you again?

5:22 PM  
….sir?

5:24 PM  
 _You scare me sometimes with your prescience._

5:25 PM  
Technically, sir, this would be retrocognition.

5:25 PM  
And that was not my intention.

5:26 PM  
 _We’ll discuss it when you get back._

5:27 PM  
I’m fairly certain that as a lowly detective I’m not supposed to be aware of the inner workings of the NYPD bureaucracy, sir. You’re the one that signed up for that, not me.

5:28 PM  
 _Oh, shut up, Hawkeye._

.

.

. 

_November 7_

_._

_._

_._

_Unknown number: Are you made of copper and tellurium? Because you are Cu-Te._

 

12:31 PM  
Okay, dude, seriously, we need to talk about your game. Or actually your lack of game. Because it’s problematic. Also hilarious. 

12:34 PM  
 _I’m in a lunch meeting. With the Deputy Superintendent. I am hiding in the bathroom to answer this because I’m not about to pull out my phone to text in front of Raven. With all respect, Catalina—piss. Off._

12:35 PM  
Ooooh, touchy.

12:36 PM  
She’s getting really frustrated, by the way. I caught her googling how to track blocked numbers. I think she’s about ready to convince her grandfather to issue her a warrant. You know she’d do it.

12:37 PM  
 _Turning off my phone. We will discuss this later._

* * *

1:35 PM  
How did the meeting with DS Raven go?

1:47 PM  
 _Sorry, phone was off._

1:48 PM  
 _You could knock on my office door and ask._

1:49 PM  
Can’t. That would make the fact that I’m procrastinating obvious.

1:50 PM  
 _The great Detective Hawkeye procrastinating? Bestill thy tongue._

1:51 PM  
With all due respect, sir, shut up.

1:52 PM  
I’ve already played Minesweeper all through my lunch break, you’re my last hope.

1:53 PM  
 _I think the quote you’re looking for is, “Help me, Captain Mustang, you’re my only hope.”_

1:54 PM  
I don’t know if there’s a difference between the two, honestly.

1:56 PM  
 _Seriously, Hawkeye?_

1:57 PM  
I’m going to go out on a limb here and deduce that you made yet another sci-fi movie reference that I didn’t understand. You should know better by now, sir.

1:59 PM  
 _I thought Star Wars was a rite of passage for all humanity._

2:01 PM  
Obviously not. What’s the case ID for the Kimblee file? I wrote it down but you have all the physical copies in your office and I can’t find the receipt I used.

2:03 PM  
 _Don’t you have a notebook for that?_

2:05 PM  
I’ve spent the past two hours deciphering what used to be my notebook, after Sheska spilled coffee all over it. If it was there, then it isn’t anymore.

2:07 PM  
 _130712-A6921. I can drop off one of the photocopies on your desk in an hour if you want._

2:07 PM  
Thanks. I’d appreciate it.

2:08 PM  
So, are you going to tell me how the lunch went?

2:08 PM  
 _I thought you said that since you were a lowly detective it was better for you to be kept out of the administrative kerfuffles?_

2:09 PM  
Call me curious.

2:10 PM  
 _Budget cuts. The yearly dinner party for the 12 th. Budget cuts. The Kama Sutra, for some reason. Did I mention budget cuts?_

2:13 PM  
Why the Kama Sutra? I would have thought Japanese schoolgirl porn to be more his thing.

2:15 PM  
Sir, did *you* make that dying elephant noise?

2:21 PM  
 _Damn, I need a cigarette._

2:23 PM  
 _We’re going to have to fix this Star Wars thing._

2:26 PM  
I don’t have time for movies, sir.

2:28 PM  
 _Everyone has time for movies._

2:31 PM  
 _I’m leaving them on your desk when I come in tomorrow. No argument. (The order you watch them in is 4, 5, 1, 2, 3, 6. Don’t question it.)_

2:33 PM  
Yes, sir. (I’ll watch them how I please.)

* * *

8:17 PM  
So I have a hypothesis about Science Guy.

8:19 PM  
Is that what we’re calling him now?

8:23 PM  
Obviously it has to be someone that knows me, or at least someone that knows my work number.

8:25 PM  
Which could equate to half the people in Manhattan because you’re hella generous with those business cards of yours.

8:25 PM  
See, I don’t think so. The fact that Science Guy is using really bad pick-up lines based in science indicates that there’s something more personal to it, because he knows me well enough to know that I like science jokes.

8:27 PM  
You? Science jokes? No. (Also, I thought you said this guy was creepy.)

8:29 PM  
Ignoring that in favor of the evidence. He could have just picked regular pick-up lines—they’re a lot easier to find—but he chose science ones for a reason. I think it’s a clue to who he is. (And the whole reason I’m thinking about this is so I can arrest him for harassment. Or at least punch him in the dick.)

8:30 PM  
Or mack like teenagers on his leather couch.

8:34 PM  
Who says he has a leather couch?

8:35 PM  
All stalkers have a leather couch.

8:37 PM  
What on earth are you drinking and why wasn’t I invited?

8:39 PM  
Excuse you. Private party. This is the sad corner for the dateless.

8:41 PM  
Oh, Rebecca.

8:43 PM  
Don’t you ‘oh, Rebecca’ me. You at least have Science Guy. I have just have my best buddy tequila.

8:46 PM  
And me.

8:49 PM  
Psh, no. Tequila is my best friend forever and ever so there. 

* * *

3:21 AM  
Good, ssometimnes I just wantt o climb thatman like a tree.

3:33 AM  
Excuse me?

3:34 AM  
Havooooc.

3:36 AM  
Why didd I brak up th ewhole friend with beneefits thingh? Thart thi ng was goig so well Riza. WHY DID I EN DTHE TTHING. HE GHAS THEW TONGUE ODF A GOD.

3:38 AM  
…how much have you had to drink?

3:40 AM  
Onnly alittle.

3:41 AM  
Are you still at the bar?

3:49 AM  
Mayybe.

3:50 AM  
Rebecca, I love you, but if you wake me up with your emotional constipation again, I reserve full rights to shoot you in the foot. Go home (text me when you arrive) and get some sleep. That’s an order.

3:51 AM  
Ma’am yres ma’am.

4:47 AM  
hiome

4:49 AM  
your my favvorite riza hawkeye

4:50 AM  
I love you too, Rebecca.

.

. 

. 

_November 8_

.

. 

. 

9:41 AM  
Rise and shine, sleepyhead. It’s a new day and I have names for you to go over.

9:57 AM  
Oh my god you are Satan. 

9:59 AM  
Do you realize how much my head is *pounding* right now?

10:01 AM  
Yes.

10:02 AM  
So I’ve calculated those who I feel are the most likely to have been both willing and able to be Science Guy, based on availability, fiscal capability, and general dorkiness.

10:03 AM  
Is dorkiness quantifiable?

10:05 AM  
You would know.

10:07 AM  
God, what peed in your cornflakes this morning?

10:08 AM  
I told you getting a dog would end in tears.

10:09 AM  
You love my dog.

10:10 AM  
Of course I do. I’m not the one that has to walk him three times a day.

10:12 AM  
Seriously though, is this about the whole 3AM-text-we-shall-not-mention thing? Because I had more shots than I can count before I wrote that.

10:14 AM  
Of course not. I’m not that petty.

10:15 AM  
So I’ve narrowed it to three names. I honestly can’t believe it of any of them, but simultaneously I’m operating off of evidence and not personal instinct; people always surprise you.

10:15 AM  
Kain Fuery  
\--capable of rigging an untraceable cell phone, knows a lot about science fiction, is somewhat shy around women, younger and (possibly) timid because of it (?)  
Denny Brosh  
\--Star Trek bobbleheads on his desk, has friends in the computer forensics department, quiet type  
Storch  
\--does this have to be explained

10:24 AM  
Ew, Storch. Pretty sure if he was sending me anonymous come-ons I’d never want to eat again.

10:24 AM  
Also Brosh is totally into that girl in narcotics, Maria something-or-other. So strike one. Fuery, no idea. He kind of plays things close to the chest.

10:25 AM  
Why isn’t the Captain on your list?

10:26 AM  
Why would he be?

10:27 AM  
Um, because he’s an eternally awkward sci-fi-obsessed dork that had YOUR GRANDFATHER for a supervisor when he was a lowly beatcop?

10:28 AM  
GRUMMAN STILL GOOSES ME ON THE ASS EVERY TIME HE WALKS BY, RIZA. I HAVE FILED LIKE TEN SEXUAL HARRASSMENT COMPLAINTS. YOU JUST *KNOW* IT RUBBED OFF ON CAPTAIN TIGHT-PANTS. AND YES I DO MEAN THAT LITERALLY.

10:32 AM  
The rubbing. Not the tight pants. Though he does wear tight pants.

10:34 AM  
Riza?

10:35 AM  
Shhh. Thinking.

10:37 AM  
About Hearts-In-His-Eyes Mustang?

10:39 AM  
About Star Wars.

10:41 AM  
….I need coffee. It’s too early for this crap.

* * *

TO: kfuery  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: You know

I know you know who it is.

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: kfuery  
Subject: RE: You know

Know who what is?

TO: kfuery  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: You know

Don’t make me come over to your desk and dig out the file on tracing disposable cell phones, because you know I will. I’m bigger than you. I could cuff you to the ceiling if I wanted and go through your desk myself.

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: kfuery  
Subject: RE: You know

You’re kind of utterly terrifying when you want to be, Detective. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. He asked me not to. He’s the captain, I couldn’t just tell him no.

TO: kfuery  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: You know

Then you’re admitting that it was Captain Mustang who asked you not to tell me who was sending me those anonymous text messages?

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: kfuery  
Subject: RE: You know

I can sign a confession if you want.

In his defense, I don’t think he meant for it to go on this long. Lieutenant Hughes dared him to do it.

TO: kfuery  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: You know

I’d suspected as much.

Be on standby. I might have a job for you later this week.

* * *

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: (no subject)

I suppose I should have expected it from you. Was it your idea, or did he come up with it all by himself?

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s an insult to both your intelligence and my awesomeness. And actually, it wasn’t his idea _or_ mine. It was Catalina’s. (Don’t shoot the messenger, Riza! I know how good a shot you are, I won’t survive.)

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

I’m frankly more astounded that a conspiracy built itself up in front of my nose and I didn’t actually notice.

I know the office betting pool was your idea, though. Don’t even try to wiggle out of that one.

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

Why would I even try to wriggle out of it? It’s one of my greatest achievements. That kid from forensics has a LOT of money riding on you two getting together by the end of the year. He’s getting antsy. If he loses he owes me a lifetime supply of homemade coffee as crafted by his brother, that barista in Resembool.

The boy is gifted. I’m very much looking forward to winning.

Of course, now that you know, I’m going to have to resign myself to a life without free, delicious coffee made by talented college students.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

What makes you think you’re going to lose?

(What’s the deadline for your coffee bet?)

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

Is that a deal I’m scenting on the wind, Detective? Pray tell what sparked this surge of cunning.

(Midnight on December 17th, same day as the nondenominational winter staff party.)

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

Two can play at the anonymous game. Help me, and I’ll tell Gracia the recipe for the spicy apple cinnamon roll cake I brought to the potluck in June.

(Do you think Edward would be willing to convince his brother to make free coffee for _two_ hardworking cops with long hours and insane caffeine issues?)

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

I am at your service, Lady Hawkeye.

(Edward, no. Alphonse, yes. He has a bet in the pool too. We made a special exception for our main coffee dealer. I’m sincerely considering hiring him to work in the staff room permanently. The coffee machine in there is a mutant disguised in steel.)

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

I’ll send you an email with the details once I confirm one last thing.

(I’ll have to send that boy a Christmas card.)

* * *

9:56 PM  
This series makes no sense.

9:58 PM  
 _Pray explain._

9:59 PM  
How am I supposed to believe that this is long ago and far away when everyone is human and the technology is clearly based off of what we currently have in development?

10:01 PM  
 _First of all, this was made in the seventies, so “in development” is a misnomer. Secondly, there is such a thing as “suspension of disbelief,” Detective. Which one are you watching?_

10:05 PM  
Third. Why fight with laser swords, anyway? They’re completely ineffective. A laser shotgun would ruin your whole day.

10:06 PM  
 _One does not question the Jedi._

10:10 PM  
Somebody should be. Whose bright idea was it to let Anakin know how special he was? A Jedi. Who decided space Buddhism was a good idea? A Jedi. Who let the Clone Army into the Republic? A Jedi. I mean seriously, who makes these kinds of rules? Troglodytes?

10:11 PM  
 _You like it._

10:14 PM  
It’s a fascinating cultural experience.

10:15 PM  
 _Don’t lie. You like it._

10:17 PM  
The Force is just an excuse to use Chinese movie physics in a western production.

10:19 PM  
 _Your distraction attempts are laughable._

10:24 PM  
Why are the only worthy female characters princesses or…well, dead princesses? It makes no sense.

10:26 PM  
 _Shh. You actually like it._

10:28 PM  
Maybe.

10:29 PM  
I’m telling you, all of this is going to end in tears.

10:48 PM  
Oh, look, it did.

10:49 PM  
 _I think I would actually pay money to watch you watch Battlestar Galactica._

10:52 PM  
Does it have laser swords? Because I don’t think I can handle more laser swords.

10:53 PM  
 _Putting the first season box set into my work bag now._

11:15 PM  
Question: what kind of personality is demonstrated by someone who anonymously sends bad pick-up lines via a blocked-number for six plus months?

11:24 PM  
Sir?

11:28 PM  
 _Sorry, dropped my coffee. Obsessive, probably. Overly concerned with appearances; can’t stand to think he’ll be turned down. Thinks he’s good with women but actually really isn’t. Am I right in thinking these lines are being sent to a woman?_

11:29 PM  
Well, yes, considering they’re being sent to me.

11:31 PM  
And before you ask, sir, no, I don’t know what I’m going to do when I find out who it is.

11:34 PM  
What are you working on?

11:36 PM  
 _What makes you think I’m working on anything?_

11:38 PM  
You’re drinking coffee at midnight. There’s not much else you could be doing.

11:41 PM  
 _Was the whole reason Deputy Superintendent Grumman assigned me to be your supervisor to make sure I slept more than three hours a night? Sometimes it feels that way._

11:45 PM  
Also to make sure you ate more than a granola bar every three days.

11:46 PM  
 _Hilarious._

11:49 PM  
 _Reading through the Kimblee papers again._

11:51 PM  
We’re going to get him, sir.

11:53 PM  
 _That I’m certain of. I suppose I’m just trying to find where he went wrong._

11:59 PM  
Maybe it’s possible he was always wrong and just never had a chance of being otherwise. Some people are like that.

12:03 AM  
 _For some reason your cynicism is more reassuring than it ought to be._

12:05 AM  
I’m a professional cynic. What happened with Kimblee and that Ishvalan wasn’t your fault, sir. He went wrong, and innocents suffered. Yes, it happened under your watch, but you couldn’t have predicted what he was going to do, because none of us could have. It was sudden. It wasn’t like you hired him in the first place, either. The whole thing is on Kimblee’s shoulders, not yours. Staring at his file in the middle of the night is only going to make you feel worse.

12:07 AM  
 _The court date is in a week. The brother’s going to be there._

12:11 AM  
I’m going to be there too, you know.

12:13 AM  
 _I know._

12:17 AM  
Go to sleep, sir.

12:19 AM  
 _Aye, Detective._

 .

.

 .

_November 7_

_._

_._

_._

“Is there a particular book you would like to swear on, Miss Hawkeye? Bible, Torah, Qu’ran…?”

“Detective,” Riza told the court official, and shrugged. “I’m an atheist. The constitution will do fine.”

He gave her a beady-eyed look, as if all atheists were automatically untrustworthy, and then provided the leather-bound book that held the Constitution. Riza laced her hand on it, made the oath, and then ascended to the witness stand. Her court clothes were itchy and smelled a little like mothballs; she’d have to get them laundered after her stand was over. She had another court date over the Tucker murders in a week and a half and those she was not about to look shabby for. (Not that she looked shabby now; she just smelled a bit like mothballs.) The judge (Basque Grand, which was a stroke of luck; Grand liked cops in the best of times, and _hated_ police brutality) stroked his handlebar mustache and gave her a little nod. They’d had dealings before. In fact, as Riza would never, _ever_ ask her grandfather for any favors where warrants were concerned, Judge Grand was often the ones who signed her requests into realities. She nodded back, and took her seat.

Kimblee was watching her, a small smile on his face. She looked back at him with no expression. He’d bought a new suit for this, something so blindingly white that it nearly hurt her eyes. The irony made her nauseous. His lawyer looked more like a bodybuilder than a man of the justice system, with glasses and blonde hair. He sat slightly apart from Kimblee, as if simply being near him was more than the man could bear. She made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

It was hard not to see the captain in this crowd. Roy Mustang was seated in the third row from the front, next to a scarred Ishvalan man with his arms crossed over his chest. The Ishvalan—even though Riza had spoken directly to him, back in March, she couldn’t for the life of her recall his name—was watching Kimblee as if he’d very much like to come over the fence and rip him apart. If Kimblee was aware of it, he made no indication; he smiled at Riza again, and then leaned back in his chair, hands in his pockets.

The representative of the prosecution was Olivier Armstrong. She pitied Heinkel and all his children.

“Detective Hawkeye,” said Olivier, and Riza snapped to attention. Olivier smoothed a strand of hair back out of her face (unnecessarily; her hair was always perfect) and put her hands behind her back like a sergeant major. “Thank you for being willing to come in on such short notice. You are, of course, a very busy woman.”

“It is my pleasure to offer whatever information I can to the court, Miss Armstrong,” said Riza, and clasped her hands in her lap. Olivier accepted this with a short nod.

“According to police records, you were one of the attending detectives at Bigelowe’s on the twenty-first of March of this year?”

“I was not the first officer on the scene; that position belongs to Detective Kimblee, who sits here today.” She paused. “The first _investigating_ officer to be at the scene was Captain Mustang, who was in the area speaking to an individual affiliated with the department. He was followed by Officer Jean Havoc, who I believe was here yesterday, and then by me, as Havoc elected to call me in.”

“Why would he have done that, Detective? Considering your captain and Detective Kimblee were both already present, it seems overkill to have yet another detective trampling over the evidence.”

“I cannot speak to Officer Havoc’s personal motivations, Miss Armstrong. However, when he called me, he stated that since he knew I had worked previously in the organized crime unit at the Twelfth Precinct, and thus felt more comfortable working with me, who had been his supervising officer, rather than Captain Mustang, who had previously worked in arson, despite Captain Mustang’s abilities.”

“Would you in any way say that this was a critique of Captain Mustang’s ability to investigate and interrogate suspects at the scene, Detective?”

“Not in the slightest. As far as I’m aware, Officer Havoc has great respect for Captain Mustang’s abilities.”

“Then you were called in as what, emotional support?”

Riza shrugged. “Havoc confided in me that the victims were not responding particularly well to him. He reasoned that as a woman, I might have a more pacifying effect, and possibly gain them more information. He also knew I was in the area, and since the call had been put out for responders, he simply requested that I make my way over there if I could. It was by no means a moment of doubt for Captain Mustang’s abilities, but rather an acknowledgment that sometimes it’s simpler for an officer or detective of one gender to interview, rather than another. The same way a male detective might be the wrong person to put into an interrogation room with a female victim of rape, for example.”

“I see,” said Olivier, and glanced at the jury. “Why did he feel that you would be the more apt choice as the interviewing officer, rather than Captain Mustang or himself?”

“Objection,” said Heinkel. “Relevance.”

“Detective Hawkeye mentioned that Officer Havoc discussed his reasoning with her,” snapped Olivier, and Judge Grand gestured her forward.

“Continue, Detective.”

“From what Havoc told me before I arrived,” said Riza, “the victims of this incident were Ishvalan. As many of you would be aware, much of the Ishvalan population in the city has good reason to doubt the word of New York police officers, especially the officers and detectives who identify as male. As a woman, I would present less of an intimidating image, considering that very few female officers were involved in subduing the riots several years ago. Also, as a detective, I’m allowed certain leniencies in my uniform, unlike Officer Hawkeye, who has to wear the blue. It’s not an uncommon practice in circumstances with Ishvalan victims—or perpetrators, for that matter—that female detectives be called in, simply to lower the chances of a violent response.”

She glanced into the crowd again. Captain Mustang was watching her. So was the scarred and tattooed Ishvalan man, but not with any visible hate. He was more considering than anything, his head cocked slightly to one side, as if he was evaluating her answer along with the judge. When he noticed her looking, he inclined his head ever so slightly, and then turned to stare at the wall. She didn’t quite know how to react to that one (after all, it was a marked difference from the man she’d seen before) so she didn’t. She looked at the jury for a moment or two, and then back at Olivier.

“Had there been a violent response at Bigelowe’s, Detective Hawkeye?”

“Not so far as I am aware. Despite…” She searched for a word. “Despite the carnage, neither the witnesses nor the surviving victim ever provoked or were provoked to violence.”

“If you could describe for the ladies and gentlemen of the jury exactly what you observed as you arrived on the scene, Detective?”

Riza closed her eyes for a moment. “Bigelowe’s was a large building, especially for the neighborhood it was in, and especially for a bodega. Roughly two thousand five hundred square feet. The building was decimated. Parts of it were still on fire when I arrived. I could smell burning bodies, so I knew at least one person had been physically injured, probably worse considering the level of destruction. The evidence collection and crime scene units were already on the scene. I recognized most of them. Officer Havoc was half a block away, standing with the victim—” her memory flickered. “Officer Havoc was standing alongside Scar, one of the owners of the bodega. There were seven body-bags. When I interviewed Mr. Scar later, he indicated that the bodies in those bags were the last of his family.”

“Where was Captain Mustang?”

“The captain was at a bench roughly fifty yards away, in the opposite direction, speaking with Detective Kimblee. I noticed at the time that Kimblee was ruffled—he was and is generally preoccupied with his physical image, and before that night I had never seen him with a single hair out of place, but his hair was mussed, he was covered in soot, and he was missing his jacket. I learned later that it had been scorched so badly that he threw it away.”

“What was the demeanor of Captain Mustang at the time, Detective?”

“Angry,” said Riza simply. “He wasn’t shouting, but it was obvious. Kimblee was laughing, and the Captain was angry.”

“At the time, did you have any theories?”

“At the time? I assumed that the Captain was reading Kimblee the riot act for going into a bomb site without proper backup. It didn’t sit right, somehow—Kimblee laughing didn’t fit the theory, after all—but it was the only thing I could think of. After I spoke to Mr. Scar, however, I re-evaluated.” 

Olivier laced her fingers together, looking about as smug as a cat in cream. “What caused this change of heart, Detective?”

“Evidence.” Riza brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “When I spoke to Mr. Scar, he indicated that he had seen Detective Kimblee carrying a briefcase into the bodega, and left it under the counter when he came to pay for his items. Detective Kimblee was halfway out the door when the timing mechanism on the bomb malfunctioned, and set it off three minutes early. Mr. Scar’s brother was killed instantly in the blast, Mr. Scar was injured, but had seen the whole thing, and informed me of this when I asked.”

“Would you say that at this point Captain Mustang was aware of that information?”

“Officer Havoc informed him that Mr. Scar had claimed Kimblee was the culprit. At that point it is more probable that he was attempting to interrogate Kimblee, and Kimblee was not cooperating.”

“Did you witness Captain Mustang at any point physically assault Detective Kimblee?”

“Yes,” said Riza. “I finished my interview with Mr. Scar, and told Officer Havoc to take him to the hospital. As you see, he was not uninjured in the blast, and at the time, his injuries were, while not severe, bad enough that medical treatment was necessary. I went to ask Captain Mustang what he wanted to do from that point, and was within three feet of the two of them when the captain punched Detective Kimblee in the face.”

“Would you say that the captain had been provoked, Detective?”

“It was impossible for me to know at the time. I grabbed Captain Mustang’s arm, to prevent him from hitting Kimblee again, but he didn’t attempt to do so.” She paused. “He was shaking. Kimblee spat out blood and laughed. The captain then ordered me to arrest Detective Kimblee on suspicion of terrorist action and police brutality, and I did so.”

“Despite witnessing your superior officer assault one of your coworkers?”

“I did as I was ordered, Miss Armstrong. I didn’t agree with Captain Mustang’s actions, then or now, but I trust him. He would not have made such a mistake had he been…settled.”

“Do you mean to say ‘in his right mind?’”

“No,” said Riza. “I meant ‘settled.’ What happened with Detective Kimblee _un_ settled him deeply. It continues to do so to this day.” She drew a breath. “Captain Mustang views what happened with Detective Kimblee to be a personal failure, however erroneous that view is and continues to be. Put simply, he regards the fact that he did not know—that _none_ of us knew—what Kimblee was going to do to be his own fault, and the fact that he could not prevent the death of Mr. Scar’s brother and the other six haunts him.”

Mustang was watching her. He had his chin in one hand, watching her, hair brushed back in the style he hated, but his eyes were fixed on her face. Riza looked back at him for a long moment, because she couldn’t not—she _couldn’t_ not—and said, “He may have a temper, Miss Armstrong, but Roy Mustang was, is, and continues to be one of the best men I know. If he had known what Detective Kimblee was planning to do, he would have arrested him before he even had a chance to make up the bomb.”

Olivier said something, but Riza didn’t hear. She was transfixed by the wide, sudden, startling smile on Mustang’s face. He leaned back in his chair, scruffing a hand over his jaw, but the smile didn’t go away, and what surprised her the most was the warmth in it. She’d only told the truth, but he was looking at her as if she’d said something he couldn’t believe, didn’t dare believe was true. Her lips parted. Riza clenched her hands in her lap and looked at him, and thought, _Oh. So that’s it._ He was watching her like he’d never seen anything like her before. Like she was precious.

Riza watched him until he blinked, and then gave him a small, private smile, and turned back to Olivier.

“Sorry, please repeat that. I was thinking.”

* * *

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: oarmstrong  
Subject: Court

Well done today. It’s always a pleasure to interview you, Hawkeye.

Are we still on for drinks on Friday?

TO: oarmstrong  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: Court

Thanks. Apologies for the sudden space-out. I realized something that startled me. (Not about the case. It’s rock solid, of course. Well done.)

And yes, of course. See you soon.

* * *

9:34 PM  
 _So you startled me in court today._

9:36 PM  
How so? I only told the truth. As always.

9:37 PM  
 _You’re much nicer to me than you ought to be, considering._

9:40 PM  
You know my opinion on the matter, sir. And I’m not taking it back now, you know.

9:42 PM  
 _Really._

9:43 PM  
Really.

9:45 PM  
You, Roy Mustang, are the best cop I know, despite your tendency to fudge your paperwork and tease Havoc. You’re also the best *man* I know, and have known, in spite of (or because of) those flaws you’re never going to fix. Yes, you’re arrogant, and you can be a poseur and a brat, but I would never have trusted you for all of these years if you hadn’t given me a million and one reasons more to think you were completely, undeniably *good*.  So stop thinking you’re not.

9:47 PM  
Also, stop smoking. I found cigarette butts outside your office window again. Don’t think I didn’t.

9:49 PM  
Sir, you can’t keep letting Kimblee get to you like this. It gives him power he never deserved. The best way you can punish him for what he’s done, more than where he’s going to end up when Olivier’s through with him, is to ignore him. He’s a narcissist; letting him affect you only fuels his fantasy. Ignore him, as hard as it is. If you can’t, you can always come to me.

10:11 PM  
 _But smoking fits my hardcore lady’s man cop image so well._

10:13 PM  
Image and reality are different, sir.

10:15 PM  
 _Well, yes._

11:54 PM  
 _I don’t think you realize how many times you’ve saved me, Riza Hawkeye. Without you I’d be crazy ten times over. You could move the Himalayas with your stubbornness. I have no doubt of it._

11:55 PM  
I’ll put it on your tab.

* * *

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: (no subject)

This woman is going to kill me, Hughes.

TO: rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: (no subject)

That’s how you know they’re worth it.

. 

.

. 

_November 19_

_._

_._

_._

Note found in file #130712-A6921:

_Did you sit in sugar? Because you have a pretty sweet ass._

 

TO: mhughes, rcatalina  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: This had better be a joke

Did either of you stick a note in the Kimblee file on my desk?

TO: rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: This had better be a joke

I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I thought you locked your office every night.

TO: rmustang  
FROM: rcatalina  
Subject: RE: This had better be a joke

Come on. If I was going to leave a note for you, I’d do it to your face.

TO: rcatalina  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: RE: This had better be a joke

Why do I even ask people these questions?

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: RE: This had better be a joke

So you’re swearing off all knowledge of this?

TO: rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: This had better be a joke

I seriously have no clue what you’re talking about. How could someone get into your office? You have the only key, aside from the janitor, and Toombs keeps his nose clean.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: RE: This had better be a joke

If you’re involved, Hughes, I WILL find out, and you WILL regret it.

TO: rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: This had better be a joke

WHY DOES EVERYONE AUTOMATICALLY ASSUME IT’S ME?

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: RE: This had better be a joke

I think the fact that people give you the benefit of the doubt on occasion should shock you more.

* * *

2:39 PM  
Is everything all right, sir?

2:45 PM  
 _Yes. Why are you asking?_

2:49 PM  
Because you just snapped at my recruit for no reason and you’ve been glaring at Lieutenant Hughes all day. You’re not as smooth as you think you are.

2:51 PM  
 _Someone decided to play a stupid prank, that’s all._

2:57 PM  
I finished the first season of Battlestar Galactica, by the way. Do you want the DVDs back?

2:59 PM  
 _Only with an essay._

3:01 PM  
An essay?

3:03 PM  
 _Sometimes getting you to say what you think of something is like extracting bones from concrete. You do know that, don’t you?_

3:05 PM  
I regard it as part of my charm.

3:09 PM  
 _You have to at least tell me who your favorite character was_.

3:11 PM  
I don’t know if I can technically have a favorite character after only having watched one season.

3:14 PM  
 _Rizaaaaa._

3:15 PM  
Though I have to confess a certain fondness for President Roslin.

3:16 PM  
 _Really? Not Apollo?_

3:17 PM  
Apparently you seem to think I’m shallow, Captain. Though I’ll admit that I’m a bit sweet on Captain Apollo, when he’s not being a shallow, bitter, useless fool.

3:19 PM  
 _Ouch._

3:21 PM  
If I have to pick a favorite, though, it would probably be Starbuck.

3:23 PM  
 _Really?_

3:34 PM  
Some parts of her remind me of someone I know.

3:43 PM  
…. _you’re not going to clarify that statement, are you._

3:45 PM  
Not in the slightest, Captain.

3:46 PM  
 _Tease._

3:48 PM  
You’d expect nothing less.

. 

.

. 

_November 25_

_._

_._

_._

Post-it note on the computer of Captain R. Mustang:

_Smoking is hazardous to your health—and babe, you’re killing me!_

 

 

8:19 AM  
 _You seriously have no idea who’s leaving the messages in my office._

8:23 AM  
Why would I? Riza’s still hunting for your blood, by the way.

8:25 AM  
I overheard her on the phone this morning talking to THAT MAN about warrants.

8:27 AM  
 _I’m pretty certain that referring to a superior officer in all caps with that connotation is some sort of HR violation._

8:28 AM  
Considering he manages to grab my ass every time he walks by my desk, I think I have pretty firm ground to stand on if he brings it to Internal Affairs, Cap.

8:29 AM  
Seriously, though, what are you gonna do if she finds out it’s you?

8:30 AM  
 _Whatever phone may have existed before, I doubt spending a week at the bottom of the East River has done much for it._

8:31 AM  
Wait, does this mean you’re actually going to say something to her? Can you film it?

8:34 AM  
 _Even if that was any of your business, which it’s not, I would say no, just to piss you off._

8:38 AM  
You’re a dick, Cap.

8:42 AM  
 _So I’ve been told._

* * *

TO: rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: So….

I heard from the highly estimable Catalina that you’ve finally given up on my excellent plan. Honestly, I thought you would have done it sooner.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: RE: So….

The note said something about my smoking.

TO: rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: So….

What does that have to do with anything? You’re kind of a dick when you smoke.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: RE: So….

Never mind.

TO: rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: So….

Uh-uh. Resembool in twenty minutes. I WILL pull my _Mean Girls_ face on you if you don’t show up.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rmustang  
Subject: RE: So….

Some days I can’t sleep at night considering what Elicia is going to become.  

TO: rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: So….

I know, right? Neither do I!

 .

 .

.

_December 2_

_._

_._

_._

Note found in file #269548-F8547:

_Are you a campfire? Because you’re hot, and I want s’more._

 

12:31 PM  
 _Riza._

12:34 PM  
Yes, sir?

12:45 PM  
 _I have a favor to ask you._

12:48 PM  
Which is?

12:49 PM  
 _Can you switch desks to the empty one right in front of my office door? Someone keeps leaving notes in my papers and the security cameras haven’t picked up anything. Since you’re here most days anyway, would you mind keeping an eye on who goes in and out of my office and writing up a list?_

12:54 PM  
What kind of notes are they, sir?

12:56 PM  
 _I would say that the anonymous texter that you had to deal with last month has switched targets._

12:59 PM  
I see.

1:04 PM  
I can switch desks within the hour.

1:07 PM  
 _Thank you._

2:03 PM  
Of course, I will expect the next season of Battlestar Galactica in return once I get there.

2:04 PM  
 _Way ahead of you._

* * *

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: I think I’m going to die

He thinks it’s me. RIZA, HE THINKS IT’S ME. HE USED TO BE ON THE ARSON SQUAD. HE COULD BURN MY HOUSE DOWN AND NEVER BE CAUGHT. WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING, ABORT. ABORT NOW FOR THE SAKE OF MY CURRENT-AND-FUTURE CHILDREN.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: I think I’m going to die

I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Bite your tongue. The Captain would never put Gracia or Elicia in danger. Just you.

What did Al put into the office pool, by the way?

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: I think I’m going to die

Sometimes you seriously scare me.

And if Al wins, he gets the officer of his choice to run a tour of the forensics lab for the Big Brothers, Big Sisters unit he works with.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: I think I’m going to die

I’ll take that as a compliment.

He’s just doing it to mess with his brother, isn’t he?

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: I think I’m going to die

You should.

And yeah. Basically.

I _really_ want to hire that kid. I’ve tried! But he is, and I quote, “fine with being a barista, because it means I get to people watch.”

WE PEOPLE WATCH FOR A LIVING. HOW DOES THIS NOT APPEAL TO HIM.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: I think I’m going to die

I’m going back to work now.

TO: rhawkeye  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: RE: I think I’m going to die

Fine. Be boring like that. See if I care.

(You’re seriously freaking him out, by the way. I think this is the third time this month he’s torn his office apart so far, and we haven’t even made it through the first week.)

. 

.

. 

_December 15_

. 

.

. 

Note found in file #253479-F9675:

_If being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged._

7:18 PM  
Package dropped?

7:19 PM  
 **Dropped and away, ma’am.**

7:21 PM  
Excellent job, Officer Lin.

7:23 PM  
 **To be honest, I’m surprised he didn’t see me.**

7:24 PM  
You’re quieter than you think. That’s why I picked you.

7:25 PM  
 **Well, my fiancé does call me Ninja Cop.**

7:26 PM  
 **I’m sorry, that was too personal for the workplace, wasn’t it.**

7:27 PM  
Considering the job we just pulled, I’m pretty sure workplace ethics are permanently off the table. (Congratulations! I didn’t know he’d asked you.) 

7:28 PM  
 **Very true. (A month ago or so. If it’s all right with you, we’d like you to come, considering you were the primary source of him being proved to be not stalkery.) I’m assigned to patrol with Officer Havoc; is there anything else you need of me, Detective?**

7:29 PM  
Nope. Have a good night, Lan Fan. (And I would love to come.)

7:31 PM  
 **Good luck, ma’am. (Thank you.)**

 .

 .

.

_December 16_

 .

.

 .

Post-it left on Captain R. Mustang’s desk

_Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back._

10:43 AM  
 _You haven’t seen anyone come in or go out again, have you?_

10:44 AM  
No, sir.

10:46 AM  
 _AW, COME ON_

_._

_._

_._

_December 17_

_._

_._

.

It was one in the morning, and Edward Elric was very grumpily shaking Hughes’ hand. Riza watched them over the rim of her glass, wondering when Ed would realize he’d been played. Al had already figured it out; she’d caught him glancing at her out of the corner of his eye all night, a smile playing around the edges of his lips, and when Ed had introduced them, he’d squeezed her fingers and said, “Always nice to put a face to the name when it comes to my business partners.”

Ed had given him an odd look, but shrugged it off. Hughes, on the other hand, had choked on his drink. Riza had simply given Alphonse a small smile, nodded, and moved on. She was fairly certain that if he wanted to, Alphonse Elric could run his very own coffee syndicate. She’d have to keep an eye on him to make sure he wouldn’t go rogue.

Next to her, Rebecca was moping. She’d splurged for the occasion, purchasing a long red dress that did lovely things to her complexion, but she’d spent most of her time leaning against the wall, watching Havoc wander around, and sighing deeply. Riza leaned back next to her, swirling her wine in her glass, and said, “You know, he isn’t dating anyone right now.”

Rebecca made a face. “Oh, don’t start. I ended it for a good reason, y’know? Can’t afford to date anyone you work with. There are regs. And, you know. Gunfights. And more regs. Are you _sure_ there’s no tequila here?”

“Rebecca,” said Riza, and when Rebecca blinked at her, Riza said, “Consider this my gift to you. _Despite_ the fact you were the one conspiring with Hughes and the captain to send me weird notes.” She blanched a little, and bit her lip. Riza ignored it. “Ask him.”

“But I—”

“Ask him.”

“You—”

“Ask him. Or this time _Havoc’s_ going to be the one getting anonymous pick-up lines.”

Rebecca drew herself up to her full height, and frowned. “You fight dirty.”

“So do you.” Riza took a prim sip of wine, and fought back a smile. “That’s an order, Officer.”

She might have groaned about it, but there was a distinct spring in Rebecca’s step as she made her way through the crowd, past Officer Lin and her fiancé, past Hughes and Gracia, towards Havoc. Riza closed her eyes. The party was, by rights, nondenominational, but there was a distinctly Christmas-y air to it all the same. Someone had strung Christmas lights from the ceiling, after all. They flickered behind her eyelids.

“You finally tricked her into it.”

It was Roy. He took the spot next to her, his hands empty; no alcohol for the Captain, then. Riza studied him for a moment out of the corner of her eye. In her heels, she was just a bit taller than him, but the difference was negligible. There was still a faint hint of cigarette smoke in his hair, but she was fairly certain she was imagining that. She hadn’t found a single butt outside of his window since she’d asked. When he caught her looking (because of course he did) he smiled. “You’re fairly quiet tonight, Detective Hawkeye.”

“I’m basking.” She set her wine glass down onto a desk. “The new recruits did a very good job this year. I’m impressed, I suppose. At least there are no Armstrong-shaped ornaments this year.”

Captain Mustang winced at the memory. “Yes. At least there’s that.”

They stood there in silence for a while. Riza closed her eyes again. She had the feeling Roy was watching the crowd, though. He was standing just close enough that she could feel the brush of his sleeve against her bare arm (Rebecca had forced her into a sleeveless black dress for the night, one with a cut in the back to show off her tattoo, and she’d been shivering all night) and the touch made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Finally, Roy cleared his throat. “You approve of them, then.”

She blinked, and followed his gaze. Rebecca and Havoc had their heads together over one of the desks, talking in low voices. They weren’t doing anything explicitly couple-ish, but at the same time, even at this distance, Riza could see that their hands were just barely touching on the desktop. She looked at Captain Mustang again. “Well, yes.”

“It’s against regulations.”

“Are you going to report them? Besides, Rebecca’s in CSU, not an investigative officer, and both of them are honorable. If they keep it quiet, there’s no reason to stop them.” She gave him a look. “Unless you’re going to hold them to regulations, sir.”

“No, of course not.” He was giving her an odd, speculative look, though, almost as if she’d surprised him. “I just would have assumed you’d disapprove.”

“She’s been miserable since she broke it off with him,” said Riza. “Far be it from me to stop true love, or whatever it is those two share. Besides, Havoc’s been moping too, even if he won’t admit it. He’s a better cop when he’s dating someone, not in the wind. It’s a win-win.”

“The violation of regulations doesn’t bother you, then?”

She had a feeling they weren’t talking about Rebecca and Havoc anymore. Riza deliberatey did not meet his eyes. “What are we in, the military?” She shrugged. “I suppose it does bother me, in a way. But she’s happy, and he’s happy, so does any organization really have a right to jeopardize that? Especially for two people who work well together, and badly apart. They’re both sensible enough to keep their conflicts out of the workplace, anyway. I trust them.”

Captain Mustang was very quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I suppose you’re right.” Riza glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and then checked her watch. It was 1:34 AM.

“Sir,” she said, “can we talk? In private.”

Captain Mustang blinked at her. Then he nodded, put a hand to the small of her back—not quite touching, just enough for her to feel the heat of his palm—and they left the main bulk of the party, into the shadows of his office.

It was neater than she always expected it to be. Roy Mustang was chaotic, but his office was rigidly controlled. Aside from the small stack of files to the right of his keyboard, there was not a single bit of paper showing anywhere, and the curtains were closed. Riza opened them, watching the snow fall, as the captain leaned back against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. Her palms were sweaty. She refused to acknowledge it.

“Riza,” he said, after a few minutes of silence. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she said. Riza fumbled in her bag for a moment for the envelope she’d prepped so carefully. “I suppose I wanted to give you something. Considering it’s the holidays.”

“We’re both atheists,” he said, but the corner of his mouth lifted, so she knew he was teasing. “I appreciate the thought, though.”

“You might not, in a minute,” she said, but before he could ask, she’d handed him the envelope, and gone to shut the door. Captain Mustang— _Roy_ , she corrected herself, if all went well she wouldn’t be calling him that anymore—blinked at her twice, and then opened the envelope. Inside, she knew, was a single scrap of paper with unremarkable handwriting on it that read, _There’s something wrong with my eyes, because I can’t take them off of you._ She’d debated a while before picking that one, but had decided upon it simply because it was true. Roy Mustang arrested her attention, and if she could tell him that, even obliquely, maybe she’d start being able to understand it.

He didn’t react for a very long time. He simply stood there, staring at the paper in his hand, before looking up. His face was absolutely blank. He just stared at her, lips parted, until finally an expression of utmost horror flickered across his face. He clenched a hand around the note. “It was you?”

“Yes. Well,” she amended, because she couldn’t not. “Me, with the assistance of Officer Fuery, Officer Lin, and Lieutenant Hughes, sir. But yes, mostly me. I know how to open your window from the outside, remember.”

He dropped down hard into his chair. Riza shut the office door behind her, clasped her hands, and waited him out. Finally, he looked up at her. “Revenge, then.”

“A little bit, yes.” She couldn’t help it. “I would have thought you’d suspected me, sir. If only for a little bit.”

“I did.” He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it. “After the one about smoking. But then they kept coming and you never gave a sign and I thought I must have been making myself think that because—” And then he stopped, and looked at her. “How long have _you_ known?”

“Rebecca didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re suspecting. Though she did mention that I might want to put you on my list of suspects. It was the _Star Wars_ that convinced me, though.”

“ _Star Wars,_ ” he echoed.

“That and the science jokes, sir,” Riza said, softly. “You know I was a chemistry major in college. I don’t think I’ve told anyone else in the office that. But you know because you were my supervising officer my first few months here. So you know.”

His face cleared. Roy licked his lips, and watched her with the air of someone waiting for a bomb to go off. When she didn’t say anything, he blurted, “You’re not angry with me?”

“Oh, I’m angry, a bit,” she said. “Or I was. Now I’m just confused.”

“Confused,” he said. Riza hid a smile. He was one of the smartest men she knew, but he could also be one of the stupidest. Though if she was going to be totally honest, she was torturing him a bit.

…maybe more than a bit.

“You could have asked me,” she said, and he stood. “A long time ago.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m the commanding officer.”

“Yes,” she said.

“And you were my subordinate.” He paused. “ _Are_ my subordinate. Sort of.”

“Yes.”

“And if I’d asked you before you would have said no.”

“No.

“No—” He flung himself away from his desk. “What do you mean _no_?”

Riza drew herself upright, and came towards him, until she was just out of reach. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t quite dare. “You didn’t ask me,” she said, “because then I would have been in trouble.”

“You’d _still_ be in trouble. We’d _both_ be in trouble.” He gave her a wild-eyed stare. “ _Why don’t you care that we’d be in trouble_?”

“Do you trust me?” said Riza. Roy opened his mouth. She leaned forward, and said it again, more fiercely. “Captain, _do you trust me?_ ”

“Yes, obviously, but—”

“Do you trust me to have your back, no matter what happens?”

“Of course, but—”

“Do you trust me to be able to take care of myself even if you’re not there?”

“You’ve saved my life, of course I trust you to be able to—”

“Do you trust me enough to let me make my own decisions about my health and well-being?”

“Yes, but—”

“And I trust you,” she said, “to let me work independently, to let me defend myself, to _know that I can do it_. I’ve trusted you with that for _years_. We’re both intelligent enough to know that this job comes with risks, but I also know _you_ well enough to know that you would make the right decision even if I was dying, rather than lose your head and get us both into an even worse fix.”

“Riza,” he said, but she rolled right over him.

“ _I trust you, Roy Mustang_. Get over it. Besides, even if people _did_ find out, there wouldn’t be nearly so big of a fuss as there would have been if you’d asked me years ago when I was still in training. Clearly I can handle myself without having to date my supervisor for it.” She eyed him. “That’s why you decided sending the messages now, isn’t it? Because I’ve proven myself as capable. You don’t care enough about the rules to have waited this long for any other reason. Don’t even try to pretend. It won’t work, and you know it won’t.”

His temper flared. “So I don’t even get any credit for trying to keep you out of trouble?”

“Of course you do. It just gets erased by the fact that you _bought a disposable cell phone to send me bad pick-up lines._ ”

He gave her a hunted look. “It was Hughes’ idea.”

“Since when do you listen to Maes Hughes’ advice on relationships? It’s a miracle he and Gracia wound up together in the first place. I remember them dating, even if you don’t. He was _psychotic._ ”

His lips twitched a little. “Maybe a little.”

“Maybe a _lot_. He’s just lucky she’s crazy enough to think that was cute.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have—I should have just told you—I wanted—I don’t know what I wanted, I just know that I make a lot of mistakes and I didn’t want to make mistakes where you’re concerned because you’re _you_ , and I still don’t know why you’re still here because I can’t understand why you’d still have my back after all the times you’ve seen me mess up and make an ass of myself—”

“Sir,” said Riza, and Mustang stopped babbling.

“Yes?”

“Don’t do it again,” she said.

His shoulders sagged a little. “Of course.”

“And sir,” she said, as he turned to stare at his desk. Roy glanced up at her through his bangs. She couldn’t help it. Riza cocked an eyebrow. “If you don’t kiss me I might have to tender my resignation on the spot.”

He gave her a long look that sent a shiver up her spine. Roy leaned forward, brushing his thumb along the line of her jaw, sliding his hand to the back of her neck. Her lips parted in a breath that she didn’t remember taking, the warmth of his palm making goosebumps erupt all up and down her arms. “Was that an order, Detective?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I’d never order my superior officer to do anything.”

“Of course,” he repeated, and then he leaned forward, and kissed her. Riza took a step forward and they collided, chests and bellies and hips, and Roy made a low noise, like a groan but not, and his fingers tightened in her hair. Riza dug her fingernails into the backs of his shoulders, holding on, pushing forward. _Mine_ , she thought, and she said it into his mouth, a muffled word that somehow he could work out anyway, because he hooked her around the waist and pulled her closer against him. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time he finally pulled back, but there was sweat beading the back of her neck and between her breasts, and at some point she’d pulled his dress shirt free of his belt and run her hands up against the skin of his back.

Roy looked at her, smoothing his thumb along the skin just under her eye. He was smiling. “Excuse me,” he said, and Riza turned her head just so she could press her mouth to the pulse point in his wrist. “I don’t want you to think I’m ridiculous, but you might just be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I just had to tell you that.”

“Well,” she said. “At least it wasn’t one about rearranging the alphabet. If you ever do one of those again, I’ll bite you.”

He grinned. “I could be down with that.”

 .

 .

.

_December 31_

_._

_._

_._

TO: rhawkeye, rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: Okay, seriously

Stop with the competition thing. Stop it now. I don’t care if it was my idea in the first place. You are seriously _leaving pick-up lines for each other on the other person’s desk_. You’re not even trying to be sly about it anymore. You’re giving the entire precinct a collective root canal with the sheer level of cute and it’s disgusting.  STOP IT NOW.

TO: mhughes  
FROM: rhawkeye  
Subject: RE: Okay, seriously

You want that recipe or not, Hughes?

TO: rhawkeye, rmustang  
FROM: mhughes  
Subject: Never mind

Continue. By all means, continue. You have my full blessing.

* * *

12: 51 PM  
 _Sometimes you scare me. But in the best possible way._

12:53 PM  
Good.


End file.
